'Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But held it up with a smile:
"What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,
"Who'll start the bidding for me?"
"A dollar, a dollar"; then, "Two!" "Only two?
Two dollars, and who'll make it three?
Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;
Going for three----" But no,
From the room, far back, a gray-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then, wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening the loose strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet
As a caroling angel sings.

The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said: "What am I bid for the old violin?"
And he held it up with the bow.
"A thousand dollars, and who'll make it two?
Two thousand! And who'll make it three?
Three thousand, once, three thousand, twice,
And going, and gone," said he.
The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not quite understand
What changed its worth." Swift came the reply:
"The touch of a master's hand."

And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd,
Much like the old violin.
A "mess of pottage," a glass of wine;
A game--and he travels on.
He is "going" once, and "going" twice,
He's "going" and almost "gone."
But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd
Never can quite understand
The worth of a soul and the change that's wrought
By the touch of the Master's hand.

--Myra Brooks Welch

Myra Brooks Welch was a resident of La Verne, California. As a youngster her special joy was playing the organ but this was denied her in later life as she suffered badly from arthritis and spent much of her time in a wheelchair. She wrote with an inverted pencil in each of her gnarled hands and would pick out the words on a type writer. She said that the joy of her writing outweighed the pain of her efforts. She was known as “The poet with the singing soul”.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

In 1921, she
heard a speaker address a group of students. She said she became filled with
light, and "Touch of the Master's Hand wrote itself in 30 minutes!"
She sent it anonymously to her church news bulletin. She felt it was a gift
from God, and didn't need her name on it. Its popularity spread like magic.
Finally, several years later, the poem was read at a religious international
convention - "author unknown." A young man stood up and said, "I
know the author, and it's time the world did too. It was written by my mother,
Myra Welch." Then her name, as well her other beautiful works of poetry
became known worldwide.

All of her poetry told of the rejoicing she had in God's love. What the world
did not see, was the woman who created these masterpieces: Myra in her
wheelchair, battered and scarred from severe arthritis, which had taken away
her ability to make music. Instead, her musical soul spoke through her poetry. Her words, a joyous expression of the wonders of life, as seen by a
singing soul that was touched by the Master's Hand. As a friend turned to leave
her home, Myra patted the arm of her wheelchair and said, "And I thank God
for this!" Imagine being grateful for a wheelchair! But her talent lay
undiscovered prior to her wheelchair days. Rather than becoming bitter, she
chose to let her handicap make her better, and a wonderful new door opened for
her.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Myra Brooks Welch was a prolific poet who had three volumes of her poetry
published by the Brethren Publishing House. Her faith and courageous optimism,
as reflected in her poetry, are not shallow and untested phases of a life
outlook. She achieved them despite - perhaps in part because of - circumstances
that confined her to a wheel chair for twenty years. Writing out of what she
knows as well as what she feels, she brought inspiration and courage to
thousands. ** All writers of verse aspire to create at least one song that will
wing its way down through the years. A few succeed in so doing; a larger number
must be content with lesser achievements. For Myra Brooks Welch that
long-lasting poem was written in 1921 and published in the Gospel Messenger on
February 26, 1921. It was accorded immediate popularity and quoted and widely
reprinted, often as an anonymous production. "The Touch Of The Master's
Hand".

Victorian Faith Networks Council of Victoria

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Interfaith Voivces

From the Dacorum Interfaith Network

An Interfaith Tree of Life

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Joining Ballarat Interfaith Network? Please consider...

B.I.N. welcomes new members from a variety of faiths, belief systems, and spiritualities. Membership for individuals is $10 and for organisations is $50. B.I.N. meets on the 4th Wednesday of every month at the Eastwood Leisure Complex, 20 Eastwood Street, Ballarat at 7pm. B.I.N. members would love to meet you.

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What is interfaith dialogue?

Ballarat Interfaith Network has the motto "Conversations not Conversions". Interfaith organisations come from a desire to understand and show respect for those of faiths other than the individual's own faith. These organisations allow friendships and dialogue to develop.
Please go to the following link for more detail: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Interfaith_dialogue

Title and Background photograph

The title of the blog comes from a Judith Wright poem. To read the poem please go to the post at http://interfaithinballarat.blogspot.com.au/2013/08/wisdom-and-knowledge-gained-beside-creek.html

The background of this blog was taken from a photograph by Brigid O'Carroll Walsh, the author of this blog. The photograph shows oak trees beside the Yarrowee River. It was taken from Esmond Street on Ballarat's historic Black Hill Reserve. Esmond Street forms part of the Yarrowee Trail as well as the Goldfields Track and is a favourite place for walkers, joggers, bikers, and dogs.